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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26825017">lack of red</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/carefulren/pseuds/carefulren'>carefulren</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, DCU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily Dynamics (DCU), Gen, Sickfic, Whump, Whumpfic, sick jason</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:46:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,521</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26825017</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/carefulren/pseuds/carefulren</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason doesn't show up for a recon, and a worried Tim and annoyed Damian go find him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>285</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>lack of red</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>
      <em>“Is everyone in position?”</em>
    </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Tim spares a glance down to see Damian crouched behind a large trash bin, the Robin’s starting position for the recon mission Bruce called all of the bats too, but when bringing his gaze back to the rooftop across from him, it’s empty.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Hood’s not here,” Tim informs with a frown, unable to shake this nagging feeling that something’s wrong.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p><em>“Unsurprising,”</em> Damian scoffs into the comms, his flat tone clashing with Bruce’s deep sigh.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p><em>“Robin,”</em> Dick warns over the comms. <em>“One sec; I’ll call him.”</em></p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Tim waits, staring hard at the empty spot across from him as if expecting Jason to just manifest before his very eyes, to just stretch through reality’s fabric with some quip about being fashionably late.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>
      <em>“Damn. No answer. Oracle, can we get a ping on his location?”</em>
    </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>
      <em>“He’s probably out becoming intoxicated with Harper.”</em>
    </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Tim doesn’t need to see Damian’s face to know the pull of muted disgust twisting at his lips.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p><em>“Arsenal’s out of town,”</em> Barbara mutters flatly in the comm. <em>“And Hood’s phone tracker is showing he’s in his apartment. I can’t get much of a read on anything else. Looks like he finally cashed in on his word that he was going to rig his security systems to block us out.”</em></p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>
      <em>“We should move forward with the mission without him.”</em>
    </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Tim considers nudging a loose brick over the ledge of the roof, right above Damian. “He said he’d be here.” Tim knows Jason is a lot of things; he knows that Jason thrives off of disappointing his family, but he’s not one to go back on his word, not with something like this.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>
      <em>“Maybe something came up in Crime Alley? He did say he’d meet us after patrol.”</em>
    </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Tim can hear the worry hidden behind Dick’s easy tone, and he assumes Dick’s carefully redistributing his concern, spreading it out evenly so he doesn’t lose his cool.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p><em>“Huh,”</em> Barbara mutters absently into the comms. <em>“His phone tracker says he’s been in his apartment all day.”</em></p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>
      <em>“Maybe he left his phone in his apartment?”</em>
    </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>
      <em>“I don’t know. I’ve pulled security camera feeds from Crime Alley, hitting all the locations he frequents, and... well, nothing. Not a single sight of him all day.”</em>
    </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Tim stands fully, narrowly scanning his surroundings for any sign of Jason. He can’t shake the uneasy pull at his chest, and though he’s not physically close to the others, he assumes the feeling’s mutual based on the silence that follows.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>
      <em>“B, I don’t like this. He promised me he’d be here.”</em>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dick’s no longer working to hide his concern, and that just heightens Tim’s anxiety that something isn’t right. He tries to puzzle together and explanation based on the four times he’s seen Jason this week: twice in Crime Alley on patrol, once two days ago at the Bat Cave, and yesterday walking out of a convenience store. He can’t recall anything out of the ordinary, but Jason’s closed off, more so thanks to the lingering pull of the Lazarus Pit, so normal, outward, physical appearances mean little to nothing.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Can we delay the recon?” Tim asks. “I’m only ten minutes from his apartment. I can go check and see if he’s there.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>“I don’t want you to go alone.”</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“B,” Tim fights back with a groan. “You and Nightwing are thirty minutes out from my location. I can be there and back before you even get here.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>“Take Robin,” </em>Dick says, and Tim has to fight back the unconscious need to sigh loudly. <em>“I know you’re capable, Red, but humor me. You two are stronger together.”</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>“Do I get a say in this?”</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Damian’s voice is bleeding annoyance, and for once, Tim can agree with how he’s feeling.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>“No,”</em> Bruce mutters, sounding almost distracted. <em>“Hood has made many enemies since coming back to Gotham, and you have no idea what you are walking into. You both go, and you both come back immediately if he’s not there.”</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>“Keep the line open, and stay in contact, Little Wings.”</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Tim rolls his eyes and grapple hooks off the building, landing near Damian. “Okay,” he mutters into the comm, and Damian only scoffs at him and starts off toward Jason’s apartment, leaving Tim to catch up.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>***</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re going to hack his security system?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yes?” Tim frowns at Damian. “How else are we going to get in?” He starts tapping at a keypad outside of Jason’s apartment door.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Knocking?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Tried that once,” Tim mutters, mind half-focused on the conversation and half-focused on working around Jason’s security. “Almost got shot.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>“You what?” </em>Dick’s voice is alarmed in Tim’s ear, but he disregards it. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And you think breaking and entering won’t get us shot?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Tim shrugs, working around the final code until he hears multiple locks click open. “Don’t get hit,” he mutters, slowly opening the door. He tenses to alert, and he can see Damian match his stance at his side.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They step inside, quietly and carefully, and though Tim’s been here before, he’ll never not be mutely surprised at how domestic the entire place is. There are books stacked on a small coffee table. A blanket’s draped across the couch, and the TV’s on with the sound muted. The lights are on in his living room, kitchen, and bathroom.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Tim glances at Damian, sharing a silent conversation before they begin their quick, quiet search. Tim starts to the kitchen while Damian pads silently down the hall.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The kitchen’s a mess. Dishes are piled high in the sink and are littering the small kitchen table. There’s a bag on a counter, the same bag Tim remembers seeing Jason walk out of the convenience store with. He moves to it, looking to see various medicines tipped over in the bag. Frowning, he makes to pick one up, but then he hears a very loud gun shot accompanied by a very uncharacteristic curse.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Damian!” Tim drops the bag and whips out of the kitchen to the bedroom, ripping his domino off as he walks in to see Jason shakily propping himself up on one elbow in bed with an even shakier hand aiming a gun at Damian.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Jason, stop! It’s just us!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>“Was that a gun shot?”</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Tim ignores Dick’s frantic question in his ear, instead edging around the room, eyes searching over Damian in the dark. “Were you hit?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Of course not,” Damian spits out, stepping forward toward the barrel of the gun and ripping it from Jason’s hand. He clicks the safety and drops the gun to the floor, and then he’s tugging a glove off and slapping a hard hand to Jason’s forehead, interrupting Jason’s deep, wet coughing.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Damian clicks his tongue, a frowm sharp on his face. “You’re burning up.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Jason weakly slaps Damian’s hand away, staring a look filled to the brim with sharp daggers between the two, stopping on Tim.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Did you break into my fucking apartment? Again?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>“Tim, what the hell is going on?”</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Ignoring Dick once more, Tim reaches around to hit the light switch on the wall, frowning when Jason winces hard.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You didn’t show up for the recon,” Tim supplies, his stomach twisting at the sight of Jason, of the angry red splotches coloring his otherwise pale cheeks, the sweat shining on his forehead, the inconsistent shivers wracking his broad frame. He studies the way Jason’s face twists around his words.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That’s because it’s Thursday.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Tim’s heart clashes with worry, and he and Damian share a glance. He’s surprised to see Damian sporting a similar look of muted concern.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Jay, it’s Friday.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, it ain’t,” Jason grumbles, hand slapping around on his bed until he finds his phone.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Tim watches as Jason’s face falls.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh.” Jason spares a glance through his messages, unable to read much because his headache is making it hard to concentrate. He looks up from his phone, turning to see a rubber bullet lodged into the wall beside Damian’s head. “Did I hit you?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No,” Damian mutters, frowning. He slips around the room, pausing by Tim on his way out. “I’m going to talk with Father and Grayson. You should get a read on his fever.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Nodding, Tim waits until he can hear Damian’s quick talking with Dick and Bruce before he moves to Jason’s bathroom to find a thermometer, snagging a traditional, under the tongue, mercury one before making his way back to Jason’s room.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“How long have you been sick?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“How did you hack into my security systems again?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Tim sighs, cocks his head to the side. “Do you really have to ask?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Fuck,” is all Jason replies with, and he takes the thermometer Tim hands him and slips it under his tongue.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Three minutes,” Tim says, ignoring the sharp look Jason shoots him. “You know they make thermometers now that will tell you your temperature in seconds, right? Why the hell do you have this old thing?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Alfred left it a few months ago.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No talking,” Tim points out, and Jason glares hard under glassy eyes.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Then stop asking me fucking questions.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Tim’s mouth snaps shut, and once he counts to the 180th second, he leans forward and snags the thermometer from Jason’s lips, studying the 102.4 degree reading, equating it with Jason’s other, apparent symptoms.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Have you been around anyone who’s had the flu recently?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t have the flu,” Jason mutters despite the chesty coughs that rip up his throat. “Just a cold.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Tim takes a step back and crosses his arms. “High fever, coughing, chills, I imagine you have a headache based on the wince when I turned on the lights, and you probably have a sore throat since your voice is physically hurting my ears.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What? Are you a doctor now?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, I’m just not an idiot,” Tim spits back, and Jason only grunts and flops back against his pillow, tugging his blanket up with a hiss.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Give me a minute, and I’ll suit up.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Tim... does not expect that, and he’s about to scold Jason in a way he’s sure would make Dick proud when Damian slips back into the room.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Father called Clark. They are pulling in backup for the recon.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, why’d he go and do something stupid like that?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Tim rips his eyes from Damian back to Jason to see Jason shuffling around his room for his suit.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Jason, what the hell?” Tim spits out, moving to Jason’s side when Jason starts to sway. “<em>Sit down</em>.” He nudges Jason back toward the bed, but Jason, despite how sick he is, fights against him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We have a recon, don’t we?” He turns to Damian and barks out a cough. “Demon, call B and tell him we’re coming.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Todd, you’re too sick. You’d just hold us back.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Tim takes the distraction to lightly shove Jason back onto the bed.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I think I’d rather have Dick here,” Jason groans, coughing harshly into his pillow. “At least he has good bedside manner.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“He and father are already on their way.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Fantastic,” Jason growls, curling in on himself and coughing harshly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Tim moves to pull the blankets up over Jason’s shivering frame, stopping when Damian’s hand wraps around his wrist. “Let me go, Dami.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No. I have very specific instructions to relocate you away from Todd.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What the hell? Why?” Tim digs his heels into the floor when Damian pulls on his wrist, but he stumbles forward when Jason lazily kicks him in the back of the leg.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No spleen, idiot. Get the fuck outta here.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m fine,” Tim tries, but Damian’s grip is hard enough to bruise, so he relents with a loud sigh. “Jesus, fine...” He rips his hand free and stalks to the door. “Get him medicine and make sure he doesn’t die.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>***</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The deep inhale of nicotine burns Jason’s lungs and brings forth a chesty round of coughing that hurts. He absently rubs at his chest, shivering, and takes in another puff of his cigarette, and then another, desperately repeating this action to chase away the edge of angered anxiety that comes when he’s near Bruce. He leans over the balcony with another shiver, watching his shaking exhale cloud before him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He hears the balcony door open, but the footsteps are too light to be Bruce’s. They are also too determined to be Tim’s, and too deliberate to be Damian’s. He doesn’t look back when a blanket is draped over his shoulders, and he only scoffs quietly when Dick plucks the cigarette from his fingers and drops it over the side of the balcony.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You would still smoke when you have the flu.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Jason doesn’t reply, not finding the energy for a snarky retort. “What have you all been doing out there?” he asks instead, tugging the blanket tighter around him to fend off the chills.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Damian’s cleaned your kitchen, and now he’s reorganizing your movie collection. Tim started reading one of your books, but he fell asleep. And Bruce has been staring at your bedroom door as if willing you to run out and give him a big, bear hug.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Jason huffs out a laugh that quickly morphs into deep coughs. He can feel Dick’s hand on his back as he coughs into his shoulder.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And you?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh, I’m alternating between Candy Crush and Words with Friends with Barbara. She’s kicking my ass.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Jason smiles, tired but genuine, feeling the anxiety flutter off with Dick’s presence. “How long til you all get the fuck out?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t think Bruce is going to leave until he’s sure you are okay. Not sure that we can wake Tim right now, and Damian won’t leave until Bruce does.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And you?” Jason repeats, and Dick cocks his head to the side with an easy smile.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’ll stay as long as you want me to stay.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Humming, Jason shivers again, and he allows Dick to guide him back into his room and to his bed. Dick carefully tucks him in, and Jason’s too tired and too feverish to mind.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m sorry,” he rasps out suddenly, and Dick’s hands freeze, and he frowns.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“For what?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I promised I would show up.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey, Jay, it’s okay. I’m just glad you’re safe.” Dick brushes the back of his hand against Jason’s forehead, a sympathetic hum slipping up his throat at the heat. “No more smoke breaks until you’re better. You’re still burning up.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re saying you’ll support my chain smoking when I’m all better?” Jason bats his eyelashes, and Dick sighs and stands, swatting at Jason’s covered leg.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Don’t twist my words. I’m going to toss all your cigarette packs out.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Jason growls lightly, a few coughs mixing with it, and he curls onto his side, wishing the stupid medicine Damian forced into him would kick in a lot faster. “You have until 99,” he mutters to Dick, who’s already filling a small trash bin with cigarette packs.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“99,” Jason repeats with a harsh cough that hurts his chest. “When my temp hits 99, I want you all out.” There’s no heat to his tone, and he struggles against the fatigue pulling against him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“99,” Dick clarifies with a soft smile. “You got it, Jaybird.”</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I had two prompts on tumblr that just asked for sick Jason, so, for some reason, I decided to do more than half a fic for sick Jason in Tim's perspective. </p><p>Come say hi or drop a prompt off on tumblr! (@toosicktoocare)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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